Greenwitch Files: Naveen Briar
by OpheliaMarie13
Summary: Spin-off of Venom Tastes Sweet. She's talked to Peter about her family, her foster homes, her friend, and most of her past. But the one secret Kindra refuses to release is the one she made a promise to keep to herself forever. This is the journal she kept while in Greenwitch Mental Hospital. Rated M for situations.


**This is a spin-off of VTS. I've always wanted to write about Kindra's life in Greenwitch. So here it is.**

**There is a scene in here. You'll know it when you get to it. It's meant to be awkward-teenagery, not sexy.**

* * *

Day 1

They gave me this journal and said I should write my feelings down. But they've given that speech to everyone else. I don't want to write, but they check the journals and if I write depressing poems and drafts of my suicide note, I'll never get out of here. Then again, if I'm unusually chipper they'll know it's a lie. So I guess the best thing is to just write as I think. Then this notebook might help me hopefully maybe.

Let's start with the basics.

Name: Naveen Briar

Age: 15

Appearance: Blondish orange-ish brownish hair, green-blue-hazel eyes, tanish, glasses

Why I'm here: A second suicide attempt amongst other things

Day 2

I was called to the mess hall before I could finish yesterday, but there's not much. I'm being tested now. They took away my Chuck Taylors so I don't hang myself with my shoelaces. I have to wear this grey uniform thing, it's just cargo pants and a matching shirt. It's because you could hang yourself with anything and the material that the uniform is made of has easy tearing fabric. But the material is weird and smells like nothing. I'm getting a haircut tomorrow because the other girls are making fun of me, my hair could be used as a weapon because of its length, and I think that they think I'll look less insane with non-hippie hair. I miss Emily. I miss her a lot. I'm tired now.

Day 3

At least they didn't treat me like Fantine or anything like that when they cut my hair. They put it in pigtails and then snipped it away. I cried. I miss my long hair. I don't know why. It was something else to hide behind. The other girls are mean. They said tomorrow I can start mingling with both genders since it's been three days. Maybe I'll meet someone here.

Day 4

I hate this place I hate this place IhateitIhateitIhate. This fucking hellhole has no end I just want to die. I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE. I'M JUST GETTING CRAZIER.

Day 5

I punched a boy today. He was cute. Emphasis on the WAS. I punched him because he called me emo. I'm not emo. My dad cut my wrists, not me.

Day 6

That boy is now dating my roommate. I really hate the world.

Day 7

It's been one whole fucking week and they still don't have my results. I'm reading again. There was a whole collection by this author John Green and yesterday I read two of his books. I only have one left and another one that he wrote with David Levisomething. My therapy group is a few sane people plus me and a girl who want to be my friend because she thinks I am emo like her. But I am not.

Day 8

I got beat up today. I told that girl I didn't cut myself like she did and now I'm in the hospital wing. It's just a split lip and a few broken ribs. What's the big deal? I got my test results. I have paranoia caused by minor schizophrenia, and anxiety issues as well as possible adolescent depression. They adjusted my meds and the side effects are weird. Now I can hear colors. It's actually quite inter

Day 9

Yesterday I was cut off by pain. There was a vein near one of my ribs that was swollen and bruised and it just popped out of nowhere. So then I bled internally and I was in ICU for awhile.

It's late right now, like ten at night. But because I'm acting better on these meds, they're letting me stay up. The other people here scare me. The girl with green hair and brown roots just sits in the corner with a blank expression on her face, holding the hand that she broke. There's a really skinny guy with an eye patch and an eighteen year old girl who just sleeps all day. There's a really hot guy here though. He's got hair so black it's almost blue and eyes so blue they're almost purple. He's pale and has dark circles under his eyes, but then again so does almost everyone else here because they never let us outside and we're all insane. I don't know what happened to him, but since I got here, he does sit-ups and push-ups and all this exercise crap every morning then goes into his bed and draws. I wonder what he's got, I wonder what everyone is diagnosed with. I worry about the little thirteen year olds who are seeing too much here, just because they outgrew the kids' mental home about an hour or so away. They have to bring those kids here in straight jackets on a bus I heard. You can never be to sure about what you hear around here. Half the time it's what someone's voice in their head told them. Which reminds me, the voices in my head are starting to return. I'm worried I'll have an episode and mess up all my progress.

Day 10

We got a new kid in here, he just lies in bed saying "ow" every two seconds. My ribs are doing okay and they said I can get out of here in about a week. Not sure how I feel about that just yet.

Remember that boy I said was hot and just sat in his bed and drew and exercised? His name is Isaac. One of the nurses was talking to him and she called him that. She said he's out of here in one week too. And that girl with green hair and brown roots left. The kid with the eye patch leaves tomorrow. I'm glad that Isaac and I are stuck here together at least.

They made me start exercises. Just stretches and stuff so I don't baby my ribs. Like I would want to. My lip healed up with this ugly blackened-blood crusted scab that looks like a ring. So I look like I pierced my lip. I also had to do one of those word association tests and an ink blot picture thingy too. They just brought one of the nurses into the hospital room and closed off my space with a curtain. Here's how it went.

Nurse: We're going to do a word association test. I'll say a word and you'll say the first thing that comes to mind. Okay hon?

Me: Sure.

Nurse: Good. Let's start. American.

Me: Idiot.

Nurse: Life.

Me: Stuff.

Nurse: Blue.

Me: Eyes.

Nurse: Mother.

Me: Loving.

Nurse: Snow.

Me: Drugs.

Nurse: Blood.

Me: *blinks* Stain. Death. Sinks. Stop! *lashes out screaming and gets pinned down by other doctors while morphine is added to my IV*

Thirty Minutes Later

Nurse: *glances at giant doctor dude standing there if I have another episode* Let's try again. Mother.

Me: *monotone* Dead.

Nurse: Father.

Me: Bastard.

Nurse: Family.

Me: Dream.

Nurse: Death.

Me: Crying.

Nurse: Sadness.

Me: Stop.

Nurse: Stop?

Me: Yes. Stop is the first word I think of.

Nurse: We're going to try some ink blot tests. I'll just hold up a card and you tell me what you see.

Me: Yeah.

Nurse: *holds up card*

Me: It's the Mad Hatter.

Nurse: *holds up second card*

Me: Blood splatter.

Nurse: *another card*

Me: Broken glass.

Nurse: *card*

Me: It's a fucking ink stain.

Nurse: Naveen-

Me: Do I look like I give a shit?

Nurse: I think you have communication problems.

Me: No, I communicate just fine.

Nurse: Naveen-

Me: *bursts into tears and sobs so hard blood comes out of my nose*

Nurse: *freaks out, then gets me Kleenex and has my sheets and gown changed*

So yeah. On the bright side, they moved me. Now the room looks like this;

"Ow" kid

18Yr. old girl

Empty bed

Eye patch

Empty bed

Empty bed

Isaac

Me

Empty bed

Yeah. Now I'm happy because Isaacccccc.

Day 11

I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate my genetics. I hate my brain. I hate this planet. I hate this galaxy. I hate The Almighty Being who lets this shit happen. I hate them. I hate this place.

Day 12

They gave me this new tactic for when I start to get nervous. Just remember the basics and then it shouldn't freak out because I'll be thinking of words instead of images. So today I wrote it out on a piece of paper and stuck it in my bra so when I get like I do before an episode I can pull the paper out and look at words.  
_Bullet hits flesh. Flesh hits blood. Blood hits snow._

See? Simple. Just words. Thinking of words on a piece of paper can't make me go insane. I think this will work.

Day 13

It hasn't even been two weeks and I want to dig out with spoons. The jello here is pretty damn good though.

Day 14

Isaac and I communicated today.

This new thirteen year old girl is in here because she has a fever. So they moved Isaac and the Ow kid onto my side of the room so the fever girl would stay on the other side of the room to not get us sick. I was sleeping and when I woke up I saw his beautiful face staring at me. He wrote something on a pad of paper.

_You talk in your sleep._

"I know." I said.

_And cry._ His face fell when he wrote that.

"I didn't take my antidepressants this morning." I said.

_Oh._ He studied me for a moment._ I'm Isaac._

"I know. I heard one of the nurses call you that."

_And your name is Naveen. The nurse was telling you to calm down and she kept saying it._

"I'm here for a reason." I said shrugging.

_And that would be...?_

"Paranoia."

_Caused by...?_

"Schizophrenia. Side effects including anxiety and depression."

_Oh._ He looked down. _What got you here?_

"Another suicide attempt."

_I see._ Pause.

"What about you?"

_Depression. I got here the same reason as you._

Neither of us said anything for a moment. Then I opened my dumb mouth.

"How'd you do it?" He furrowed his eyebrows together. "Or, try to do it." Isaac nodded, understanding. He scribbled onto the pad.

_1. Pills 2. Pills and Alcohol 3. Sleeping pills and a bathtub 4. Wrists_

Four suicide attempts. Twice as many as me. He scribbled some more.

_You?_

"A gun and pills and alcohol." He nodded.

_I like you._

"I do to."

_Will you be my friend?_

"Of course."

Day 15

Isaac showed me a poem today. One that he wrote.

_She lives in silence_

_And sadness_

_And worry._

_Her life is leaving her eyes slowly with each breath_

_She takes._

_The world has nothing anymore and it is too hard to_

_Carry_

_On._

_Nobody notices until it's too late to save_

_Her._

_She wanted to be nothing, because she heard it lasts forever._

_With a knife in hand she slashes each wrist to end her misery._

_The world fades as her eyes close._

_Nobody cared enough to stop her_

_And the last wave crashes down to drown her._

_Now she can float in her own sea_.

He said that he wrote it when he was sophomore in high school for his language class. And that he was writing about himself but wrote it about a girl so no one would be suspicious. Except he didn't actually say it. He wrote it. He doesn't speak. I don't ask why. I trust he has a good reason. Isaac is seventeen. He gets me. I get him. We work. I still miss Emily though.

Day 16

I got a letter from Emily today. She said she misses me. She had a picture of a new wig she got. It's so red it's almost purple and curled at the bottom. She looks pretty in it. I showed it to Isaac and he thinks she's pretty too. I told him about Emily. He wrote he used to have an Emily, and that his name was Jonathan. I asked him what happened to Jonathan and Isaac wrote that he moved away when he needed him most. And that it was the motive for his second suicide attempt at thirteen. So I asked him when his first was and he held up all his fingers.  
When he was ten.

Mine was when I was fourteen I think. I can't remember. Or thirteen. I try so hard to bury these thoughts of mine, that when I really need them, my mind is blank and my eyes will fill with tears of a memory I cannot recall. I hugged Isaac because he needed it. Or I needed it. The voices in my head are back. They keep telling me to do bad things. They tell me that I should kill myself and that I need to stop trying so hard. Isaac thinks the voices should fuck the fuck off and leave me alone. He's pretty smart y'know.

Day 17

I thought that when they said I'd be out if here in a week, they meant out of HERE. They meant the hospital wing. But Isaac and I got out together. They made a note that we became friends, so now my therapy group and art therapy are both with him. The voices aren't so bad anymore. But I had an episode when someone splattered red paint on my hands. That stupid paper idea with the "thing hits thing" didn't work. They said when I hit the ground I was whispering it to myself. Now I have fulfilled all the stereotypes of being insane. And not whispering to myself was all I had left.

Day 18

They gave me these morphine shots. Well, not ME obviously. Who would give a paranoid teenage girl a needle with a dangerous drug in it? But the nurses are going to see if giving me morphine shots when I have an episode will be helpful. They doubt it will, but decided to make me their seventh grade science project and test this "theory".

Isaac drew me in art therapy class. He made me look beautiful. My cheekbones are defined, my eyes slightly sunken in, hair tangled with flyaways, my lips raw and red from chewing and biting. He made me seem perfectly shattered; a beautiful kind of broken. I drew a duck.

Day 19

Isaac wrote to me that I am beautiful. The voices told me he is lying. He held my hand and pressed a piece of paper into it that said "read out loud please" so I did.

"Naveen, my beautiful sad freak, I love you. I'm sorry that you'll probably never hear me speak, but I can hear you speak, so it's okay. I love you because I like the way your hair felt against my cheek when you hugged me, because you chew your lips, because when you cry you're worse than Toby Maguire." I looked at him then and started crying and laughing until I got the hiccups and they said that our free time was up. So I had to go to my science lesson where they brought a special teacher in for me because I'm too smart for the other teachers and there wasn't anyone else willing to teach a crazy person. So I did my science class and I had one hour before they called us to the mess hall for dinner and I had to wait twenty minutes for Isaac. When he came, he sat by the wall next to me, his arm against mine. We didn't say anything, we just stared down. Then he scribbled on his note pad and held it up for me to see.

_Don't cut yourself anywhere you don't want me to touch you._

I looked at his face, but he was focused on my wrist, fingers wavering over the scars.

"I didn't cut myself Isaac." I said. He looked at me with his eyes so blue they're almost purple. "If you're in love with me because you think I cut myself like you did, you're wrong. Because I'm not the one who did it."

_Who did?_ He wrote.

"My dad." I said. "After my mom's death there was a downward spiral, he did self harm, then started harming me. The day he cut me was the last day I saw him, now I'm a foster kid on hold because Social Services figured out that no one wants me." Isaac shook his head, scribbling quickly.

_Don't say that. I want you._

"Even though you know?" I asked. Isaac thought for a moment. He wrote for a long time before handing me the pad.

_I tried cutting myself with a spork, that's why I was in the hospital wing. You came in the day after I got in. I saw you checking me out and I was freaked out. So I figured you were a freak. I started exercising to get out of bed. You were watching me all the time. So I figured you had a reason. On the day you had your tests, I listened. Then I talked to you and I loved you. After _all_ that, I saw the scars._

"So it doesn't matter to you, what my dad did to me?" I asked. Isaac rested his head on my shoulder and let me see him write out his answer.

_Only if he abused you sexually, because then it will matter enough to make me cry._

"No." I said. Isaac sighed. He made an H sound when he did.

_Good._ He wrote.

"I think I love you too." I said. Isaac wrote _Good._

Day 20

Isaac and I blew off art therapy. Our hippie teacher didn't even notice. We went into his room. His roommate was there, it was the kid I punched. His name is Caleb. Isaac introduced me by pointing to me, then putting his head on my shoulder.

"Well your girlfriend punched me in the face." Caleb said laughing.

"Sorry." I said. Caleb shrugged.

"Nice choice Isaac, she's pretty." He said. "So what are you? Schizo, psycho, suicidal?"

"Paranoid." I said. Caleb nodded.

"Bipolar." He said. I nodded. Isaac motioned to Caleb. "And now I have the sudden urge to leave the room." I actually smiled at his joke. Then he left.

Isaac motioned to the bed and I raised my eyebrows. He shook his head.

_No sex._ He wrote. Isaac took my hand and we just laid down, with both of us facing the left, lying on top of the sheets. His arms were around my waist, his stomach pressing into my back, his lips against my neck. I'm going on like a crappy romance novel, but I don't care. He loves me and I love him and I've never felt this before.

"I love you." I whispered. "I'm sure of it." I felt Isaac nod his head. "Why don't you talk?" I wished I didn't say it as soon as I did. Isaac got up. He came back with the pad.

_Not important._

"Why you don't talk isn't important?" I asked. He shook his head.

_Talking. Not important._ Isaac wrote.

"Okay." I said. He waited a moment. He held my wrists, pressing my palms against his cheeks, then placing them around his neck. Isaac let go and wrote something down.

_How did your mom die?_

"She was shot." I said. The words came out wrong and I was crying. "On New Year's Eve. I saw it happen. The episodes that I have, they're triggered by similar visual or verbal moments to my childhood." Isaac hugged me. His head rested on my shoulder and I could feel his mouth through my cotton grey t-shirt. When he stopped, I could hear him scribbling. I looked down and saw what he wrote.

_No more._

Day 21

The meds make me numb to everything but him. I love him so much. I told him everything. Even Jake. (I don't need to explain that. The Thought Police monitoring this already know about that.) Isaac kissed my scars. I kissed his. They let us outside and we laid in the grass together while I put flowers in his hair. I could live here forever. Or until I'm eighteen. Then I'd elope with Isaac and check us both into another mental home like this so we could live together. He said he wouldn't mind.

So then that sparked the conversation; what will you do if you leave this place? I told Isaac that I wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to learn more about genetics so I could rearrange DNA to improve people's minds. I told him my theory about lobotomies and why they never work. (To dumb it down, basically if you change the brain, the genetics are still there. The DNA are the codes, so changing the products doesn't work. It's like if you cheated on a test and did all your work for a wrong answer, but wrote down the right one; your teacher would know you cheated and you would fail the test.) Isaac listened for a long time, I didn't think he understood it because I used nerd-speak to explain it. But then I gave him the dumbed-down version and he got it. I asked him what he wanted if he ever leaves and he wrote in his pad,

_To be a better person._

He really did. That boy. Then he paused and wrote down something else.

_And your husband._

"Are you proposing to me?" I asked quietly. He wrote something down.

_I'm proposing the proposal._

So I'm engaged to be engaged now.

Day 22

This is Isaac. I'm writing in Naveen's journal because she told me it was how she marked the days she is here. She can't write today because it was hot outside and she saw an orange flower, which made her think of rust. And then rust made her think of the fire escape and wandering through streets with blood dripping down her wrists. So one of the nurses gave her a morphine shot and they have her in ICU to monitor her reaction. She's probably going to read this tomorrow or sometime soon so I'll write this for you now Naveen; I think I might be leaving soon because I've made a lot of progress since meeting you. The nurses said I'm a lot better. If one of us gets out of here before the other, we leave it all behind. This is my second time here and you never take it with you. Ever. If you leave before me, go get another boyfriend and love him, marry him, and have kids. I don't want you to wait for me. I will do the same if it makes you feel any better. But Naveen my love, while we are here, we live in Narnia. The rest of the world goes on while our world with its own problems continues. When you leave, you leave. So if you love me and you know I love you, that will happen if one of us should leave first. That being said; I love you more than anyone else, and as long as we're here, I will stay yours and you will be mine.

-Isaac

Day 23

Isaac wrote down the day for me yesterday. He left me a note, but I will read it later when I really need it. We still haven't kissed. (Not mouth to mouth anyways, they monitor us so much that it's just foreheads and necks and shoulders and hands and wrists, to be safe) I saw him looking at my mouth the other day. I've been catching him staring at me a lot. My breasts, my legs, my waist, my butt, my face. He looks at them the most to least in that order. I look at his lips too, but I'm usually very discreet. I've been wondering about sex with him a lot lately. (Maybe I shouldn't have written that. I hope they don't give me pills like in The Giver that get rid of "Stirrings") I mean, Isaac is hot. That was one if the first things I noticed. He's a kind of skinny buff, and he's pretty strong. I wonder if we could do it. There would be so much risk involved. We can't get condoms or birth control here, and where would we even do it? It's hard to be alone in a bedroom since I wrote about that first time with him, (thanks a lot Thought Police) and showers are boy-girl separate, not to mention two minutes long with lukewarm water. But I really think I want to have sex with him. I love him and he loves me. We even discussed names for our future kids. I decided the boy names and he decided the girl names. I said if we have a boy I want him to either be Holden or Toby. Isaac wrote if we have a girl he wants either Holly or September. We just work together like that.

Day 24

Isaac wrote that I should have a different name for my friends. He wrote he wants to call me something that only those who really care about me can call me so that he feels like he really knows me. So I chose Kindra, which was my mother's name. Her mom, my grandmother, wanted to name her Kimberly, but when she was born said she looked like a Kindra. So now to Isaac I'm Kindra. I love it, it's a key to unlock me that only he has. It feels right. It fits like the sweaters they issued us today because winter officially started. They are gray and mine fits me in all the right places, coming down halfway to my knees. And the sleeves are not only long enough for me to cover my fists, but to slap around; like I'm Number 3 in Codename: Kids Next Door. Isaac's sweater fits him funny, so he just sticks with his grey v-neck. Like I mind. Now we both state at each others' chests a lot.

Oh, I almost forgot; the morphine shots worked. I calmed down and now I can use them when I have episodes. Yay!

Day 25

I kissed Isaac today.

This morning they gave us hot cocoa and it just cheered everyone up. We could all see the snow come down through the Plexiglas windows. The other couples were being pretty mushy too, going outside to kiss in the snow. Isaac and I went outside, but only for a moment because I was starting to hear the voices because of the snow. Then we had our lessons for the rest of the day and at dinner we both left early. We went back to his room, holding hands. When we got there I said,

"We're alone." He nodded. Isaac wrote something down.

_Take off your shirt._

"You take off your shirt." I said. Isaac shook his head. He wrote something.

_Take off your shirt._ I rolled my eyes.

"Trying to go there when we haven't even kissed?" I asked. He shrugged. Then paused.

_Wait, we haven't kissed?_

"Nope."

_Oh. Then let's kiss._

"Okay." I said excited.

_Then will you take off your shirt?_

"Maybe." I said. Isaac and I stood there a moment.

_I think we both lean. I'll go right and you go right._

"Okay." I said and then we kissed. We kissed for a while and I held his face and he held my waist. Then Isaac lifted my sweater up, ducking his head under the hem so it stretched around both of us and he kissed me again. Then he pulled it over my head and reached for my t-shirt. I stopped him.

"You first." I said. He sighed and pulled his shirt over his head. I could see his breastplate and collarbone and ribs. I could see his slightly defined stomach and the scars on his hips. I couldn't help myself, I ran my fingers over his pecks for a moment before I pulled off my shirt. Isaac's fingers touched the same spot on me, except because I am a girl, his fingers were on my breast. The bra I was wearing was pretty low cut, so there was a lot of bare skin before the fabric. Isaac's other hand went to my other breast and he fingered the hem of my bra. I'd moved my hands to his biceps by then, feeling his muscles tense up under my thumbs rubbing back and forth. Then we kissed again. When we pulled away Isaac looked down blushing because I gave him a boner. So I kissed him again to make him feel better. Then he looked down at my boobs; and then at my face.

"It's okay." I said. So Isaac cupped both my breasts in his hands, squeezing lightly while I had my hands on his abs. Then we kissed in that position. Afterwards we took off our pants and fell asleep in his bed together because Caleb got out last week. If forever were an emotion, this is how it would feel.

Day 26

Isaac stopped talking after Jonathan moved away because he thought he loved Jonathan because Isaac is bisexual. He wrote that down before he did it today.

"Kindra." He said. His voice. Isaac spoke and it was beautiful. His voice sounds like hope and joy and sex and perfection and other clichés I can't think of. Then he whispered. "Kindra."

"You're talking." I said crying. I hugged him so hard and I left tears on his shirt and we were both laughing and crying.

"Kindra." He said again when we pulled apart.

"Yes." I said kissing him on the mouth. "Yes yes yes." I kissed his cheek and his forehead and his mouth again.

"Kindra, you are so beautiful." Isaac said. "I love you."

"Oh God." I sobbed. "I love you too, Isaac."

"I'm talking." He said. Isaac laughed. "I forgot what I sound like."

"You sound p-p-perfect." I said. I had to take off my glasses so I could wipe my eyes. "Y-Y-You're talking."

"I wanted you to hear me." Isaac said. "Because you worked so hard to stop listening to your voices."

"I love love love you." I said.

"I love you too." He said. He talked he talked he talked he talked he talked.

Day 27

Day 28

Day 29

Day 30

Isaac is leaving now. The day after he spoke they checked journals and decided that he can leave now. Because he talked. He's leaving tomorrow at noon, his parents are coming to pick him up. I'm spending every moment with him. I'm sitting on his lap right now with his arms around my waist and his face buried in my back. I wish it were still warm out so we could lie in the grass together. But the snow is still here. I'm going to makeout with him now.

Day 31

I met Isaac's parents. He said that they liked me. So then he had to pack up his stuff into his parents' car. But one of the nurses let me help. Then Isaac and I hugged each other by the waist in the parking lot and kissed for the last time. I couldn't stop crying and neither could he. Now he's gone.

Day 32

Oh God it hurts.

Day 33

It hurts so much. I miss him. I need him.

Day 34

I just cry. All the time.

Day 35

A letter from him today. He starts school tomorrow and is worried about what the other kids will say. I wrote that he should ignore it. Or fake something so he can come back to me.

Day 36

I keep having episodes and using the morphine shots. I'm better at stopping the voices. I don't see things anymore. Not really. They said that is good. If I can keep my episodes down, they think I can get out of here in maybe two weeks. I wrote to Isaac telling him that. I wrote that maybe I could see him if my new foster family is near him.

I hope that my foster family will be nice. Lots of them try to be, but then I do something wrong and they are afraid. Like doing the dishes. Oh God, how many times have I tried to explain that one? But nevertheless, I'm trying. Trying and hope almost feel as good as love or kissing.

Day 37

Isaac wrote back. He said its hard at school and now it's worse. "It" being his depression. The problem is that he used to have violent reactions and cut himself or attempt suicide. Now that he knows how to not do that stuff, he doesn't. I thought that would be a good thing, but Isaac said it's worse. Because all the people he knew think he's a goody goody now. He's lost his street-cred with the others. (Stupid as that sounds) And Isaac also said that because he's not taking about his pain on anything but workouts, it doesn't do anything. When he cut, he felt like he was letting so something out. Now he said he feels like Holden Caulfield. He just goes around with all this depression and hates everything he sees, trying to make something out of something, noticing all the phonies. Isaac said he cries a lot now. He said that I am his Phoebe; something good and pure he tries to hold onto.

I think that is the ultimate kind of depression. Because you can't do anything but complain.

Day 38

There's nothing to report. I am doing fine.

Day 39

Day 40

Day 41

Day 42

Forty-two is the key to the universe. It was stated in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe. Coldplay wrote a song about it. I want my music. I could really use a piano or violin. I wish I could play for Isaac.

Day 43

They said I can leave next week! I am so happy. I might cry. How nice it will be to play, to study, to grow my hair long again, to sniff my clothes and smell something, to wear Converse! I start packing tomorrow. My new foster family will be notified. I'm going to tell Emily.

Day 44

Isaac is dead. He shot himself yesterday and his parents wanted me to be notified. I can't do anything though. Then they won't let me leave.

Day 45

They let me out early. I left this morning. Isaac's parents picked me up and now I'm in their car because they knew he wanted me at his funeral. I wrote him a eulogy. I'm not going to write it in here though. It's for me and him. And anyone else at the funeral.

It was weird this morning, picking up my old stuff. It all fit inside a brown box. An iPod and a pair of decent earbuds, two pairs of worn out Converse- black and grey, a hairbrush and toothbrush, an extra set of glasses and a case, one 30-day set of contact lenses, three pairs of black skinny jeans, one pair of black cargo pants, two pairs of dark-wash jeans, three black tank tops, seven band tees, one belt, one white cami, two v-necks in black and grey, three black hoodies, one grey hoodie, and one black long-sleeve dress. They let me keep my notebook, but after Isaac's funeral, I don't think I'll write in this ever again. I have to wear my black dress to the funeral. For once it's a good thing all my clothes are black.

Day 46

This is my last entry. The funeral was nice. I say that, because you can never say anything else about funerals. Isaac's parents let me go in his room because the coroner said that he left notes. Isaac's parents just can't go in there and they figured he left me a letter. So I went in there and cuddled into his sheets for a few minutes. Then I found the letter.

_Dear Kindra,_

_I had to do it. I couldn't take the world anymore. Even if you were in it. Please forgive me the way I can forgive your father even though you can't. Forgiveness is key in life. And I loved you. You loved me. Past tense because I need you to move on. You gave me the one thing I needed the most, and that was my sanity. I am thankful for that. But please understand that where I'm going, I will move on. I want you to find someone else to make you happy. As much as I loved you, I do not believe that I am the great love of your life. I will be the one that got away, and you will be The Girl. This is how it's supposed to be. We would never find a way to stay together anyways. You will cure everything one day. And I will be proud. So my love, in this darkest and last hour of my life, I ask that you forgive, forget, and fall in love again. You can do it. Don't be afraid, because this isn't the end. You still have so much more life. Never kill yourself. Make that your vow to me, since we never got to the other ones. I want you to be happy, don't hang up your heart. There is someone else on there who will love you more than I ever could. It seems impossible now, but it's going to be happen. You will always be my friend and I hope I will always be yours._

_Isaac_

Then I read what he wrote the day I took morphine the first time. I know if it was me instead of him I would want the same but I still can't think of it. Maybe someday there really be someone who will love me more than him. I still have the drawing of me. And I stole one of his grey v-necks from Greenwich. It smells like nothing but also like him.

So tomorrow I will meet my next foster family and march into a new school. I will wear a band tee and a black hoodie, my backpack holding three emergency morphine shots. I can do this. While hope might never feel better than kisses or love, it comes pretty damn close.


End file.
